


spotlight

by Interconnected_3



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Middle School, Alternate Universe - Music, Fluff, M/M, guess who's been watching too much shigatsu, in which gon is killua's accompanist, piano competitions are scary and killua needs some reassurance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3262199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interconnected_3/pseuds/Interconnected_3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What are a violinist’s hands like? He ponders it for a minute as he holds out his own hand in front of him. So pale and thin, just like the ivory keys of a piano. His fingers start to tremble. Can he really do it? Can he play it? Can he live up to everyone’s expectations as an accompanist?</p><p>Can he make everyone sitting in the audience right now feel proud of Gon? </p><p>shigatsu wa kimi no uso / music au - Killua needs some reassurance backstage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	spotlight

_pssst open in a new tab[here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k3AZ4MxmO8o) or [here](http://musicinanime.tumblr.com/post/108702322124/again-masaru-yokoyama-anime-shigatsu-wa-kimi) to listen to the shigatsu ost 'again' that i listened to while writing this entire thing, seriously it's so good_

* * *

 

His hands are shaking. He never thought he’d feel _that_ again.

Everything is so uncomfortable. The oxygen in the changing rooms is recycled and stale. It feels like there isn’t enough going to his brain; it’s pounding as if to complain to him each time.

 _Shut up, I know,_ he wishes he could say to it, but everything is just _tight_. The changing rooms are tight, the air is tight, the collar of his suit and tie is strangling him, the atmosphere and everyone inside it is tight. It feels like he’s going to suffocate.

Sapphire-coloured eyes dart around the room. The tension is practically tangible. One girl is nervously clutching her gloved hands to herself and shaking in her dress. One boy is whispering things that sound like letters to himself as he taps his fingers along the wall. And one other guy is covering his ears with his score laid out at his feet while he’s sitting on the ground. He looks horrified.

Killua’s not much better in his curled-up position against the wall, and locks himself in tighter by pressing his forehead to his knees. There really is no human being out there who doesn’t feel shaken before a competition. Even after, too.

A single bead of sweat crawls down his temple, and he quickly wipes it away on his sleeve. He’s never felt anything like this before. Is it because it’s been two years since he’s even touched a piano? Is it because everyone else is so on-edge? Is it because no matter how much he practices, he’s prepared to make a mistake and end it for the worst? Is it because he’s being relied on?

Probably, yeah. A mix of everything. It’s pathetic that he’s been reduced to this, but at the same time it would be pointless to pretend that he’s perfectly fine here. Maybe he should just go home after all. The whole ‘fake it till you make it’ mentality is completely different here, too risky and not worth the possibility of coming face-first with failure. It’s a competition, after all.

Or so he thinks until something cold taps his knee.

Jolting a little at the touch, he brings his head up to see Gon offering him a box of chocolate milk and he remembers that there had been a vending machine near the entrance.

“I thought you might be thirsty.” He says with a smile as Killua grabs the carton from him. At least they both look ridiculous in their suits together. But for some reason Gon looks more… relaxed. Like he can actually move freely in his. Like he’s not being constrained by some unperceivable pressure.

“Seriously? We’re up in less than ten minutes, I’ll probably barf before I make it onstage.” He scoffs, but rips open the straw and tears into the box as if to suck all the life out of it by squeezing it in his fist. Just the word ‘onstage’ made his stomach twist uncomfortably and he wasn’t sure if even chocolate milk could soothe it.

“So you are nervous, huh?” Gon slides down the wall to join him in his wall-sitting position, and Killua groans.

“’Course I am, idiot! Why wouldn’t I be?” It’s humiliating to have to admit it and he shoots him an irritated sideways glance. “More importantly, why are you so carefree about it? Do you even know how many people are out in the audience right now waiting to hear you, just because you’re some child prodigy violinist? The pressure’s heavy!”

The other boy just laughs and rubs the back of his head. “I wouldn’t go that far. But you know,” He pauses to stare at the circular lights on the ceiling, almost as if they were stars. “We’re all afraid to go up there.”

Killua raises an eyebrow at that. “Even you?”

“Yeah, of course.” Gon nods, but his smile doesn’t falter at all. “After all, a bunch of grown-ups are sitting there waiting to deduct points from the minute we start playing. It would be weirder if I wasn’t! I’m probably just pretending I don’t know that, though.” He laughs sheepishly.

The white-haired boy had been gnawing at his straw rather than his lips for the past minute, and finally sets it down next to him. His attention is completely focused on Gon.

“And maybe they’ll reject you. And maybe you’ll totally screw up halfway. But even so, you still grit your teeth and get up onstage anyway.” Gon kicks out his legs from their crossed position and grins. “That’s what it means to be a musician. That’s why we’re here right now.”

Killua sighs and curls his hands into loose fists by his waist. “How can you keep saying stuff like that, even though you just said you’re scared?” His fingernails cut deeper into his palms as he grits out: “If I mess up just once, if it’s bad enough, we’ll be done for. We won’t win.”

“So what?” Gon bluntly shoots back, yet he looks completely innocent as he says so. “I don’t play to win competitions. I play so that everyone here today won’t forget me.”

“Y-You…” All Killua can do is stutter in awe and stare at how _sincere_ he is, and the words keep tangling in his throat and sliding back down into his stomach.

Gon just gives him a toothy grin. “You don’t need to worry about playing exactly the way the score’s written, I kept telling you that before, right? All you need to do today is play your best, just play the way you’re feeling. I’m sure that if you do, that’ll be enough for others to remember you.”

A beat of silence hangs in the air. Killua’s still gaping at him with wide eyes, until he finally splutters out: “S-Stupid! How selfish can you be? Aren’t we here to w- _aggghhhhhhhhh_ , you’re seriously too much! I give up!” He angrily stands up and grabs his emptied carton, tossing it into a nearby trash can and stomping down the hall.

“Wait up, Killua!” He can hear that Gon is coming after him, but his head feels so hot, like there might be steam coming out of his ears just from how frustrated he is. But then the door leading backstage swings open and it’s enough to stop his furious pacing.

“Number four, Gon Freecs and Killua Zoldyck, you’re up next!” A man with a clipboard calls down the hallway, and suddenly a shock of fear runs through his legs, chaining him to the ground.

“Coming!” Gon calls, running ahead only a few steps before noticing that Killua’s gone completely stark-still with his head tipped towards the carpet. “Killua? Hurry up, we’re on now!”

“O-Oh, yeah. Coming.” He bites down on his lip hard enough to draw blood and shoves his hands into his pockets even though his palms are sweating like there’s no tomorrow. It’s embarrassing how fast he watches his legs move just to catch up to Gon’s, but there’s something else now. Something boiling, intense, and erratic inside his chest. What was this feeling called again?

Everything’s a blur for a second. Gon has his violin carefully in both his hands, cradling it close to him in the shadow of the curtain. His lips are moving. Something inaudible leaves them, but he’s pretty sure he catches a ‘thank you’ somewhere in there before he lowers his arms to his sides.

What are a violinist’s hands like? He ponders it for a minute as he holds out his own hand in front of him. So pale and thin, just like the ivory keys of a piano. His fingers start to tremble. Can he really do it? Can he play it? Can he live up to everyone’s expectations as an accompanist?

Can he make everyone sitting in the audience right now feel proud of Gon?

“If you bite it that hard, your lip’s going to bleed.” Gon lightly scolds him, snapping him out of his trance. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine!”

“Easy for you to say.” Killua mumbles back, though he releases his lower lip from his nerve-wracked teeth anyway. They’re going to start chattering if he doesn’t grit them together. He really just might throw up his chocolate milk now.

Then he does something unexpected. Gon carefully presses his middle finger against Killua’s, pushing up until their palms are flattened together.

“See? Your hands are shaking.” He notes like all his normal, even though he can probably see how red Killua’s face is turning in the dimmed lights. “They must really want to play the piano!”

“W-What?” Killua chokes out, pulling his hand away quickly and shoving it back into his pocket. “Even for you, that’s optimistic!”

He’s not sure if Gon ignored what he just said, but the violinist just smiles and looks out to the brilliant black piano just meters away from where they’re standing, hidden by the curtain and steps away from the spotlight. “Killua, look. That’s the piano you’re going to be playing. That’s where you’re going to give it everything you’ve got with what we’ve practiced.”

He swallows thickly. His heartbeat is resonating so hard through his bones he wonders if Gon can hear it from where he’s standing. “Yeah.”

“Don’t worry,” He says again, looking straight into his eyes. “We’re going to play this together. You’re not alone.”

The pianist’s eyes widen when that realization sinks in.

Gon takes a step forward, closer to the warm lights of the stage and away from the shadows. “Come on. We’re going to make sure that everyone here won’t ever forget us.”

“Gon.”

“What?” He turns his head over his shoulder as if he wasn’t expecting a response.

“Thanks.”

Sure, he may not have been able to keep the strong eye contact, but for some reason his morale is soaring higher than it’s ever been before. His entire body feels so much lighter, like something new had woken up and started to bloom. 

“Yeah!” His smile is enough to encourage him to move on, and after hearing his response he takes his sweating hands out of his pockets and cracks his knuckles loudly.

“Let’s do this.”

The two of them finally step out into the gently-lighted stage, and a blanket of silence covers the room.

They had created their own spotlight, just for the two of them.

**Author's Note:**

> //falls down the stairs  
> heLP I CAN'T STOP WRITING MUSIC AU FOR THESE TWO I CAN'T BE SAVED  
> ugh i'm exhausted i need to stop writing when i should be sleeping but i actually like this one more than the other ones i've written recently! it's a relief to know that i still have some aptitude for writing.  
> If you liked it, please let me know!! your comments would mean a lot to me v u v


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